


A Trichy Situation

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Hair Pulling, Mental Disorder, Mental Illness, Stress, Struggle, Trich, Trichotillomania, a tricky situation, bfrb, dealing with mental health problems, hermione granger and mental health issues, neurodivergent hermione, self realisations ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 13:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10247072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hermione struggles with Trichotillomania, a disorder that results in pulling one's hair out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> TW for trich, obviously.  
> This is somewhat autobiographic, since I am a sufferer myself.   
> And I always like imagining my seemingly perfect childhood heroines as struggling with the same stuff I struggle with.

Hermione looked in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. A poofy, untaimable mess. One hair was sticking out i particular. She twisted it between her index finger and thumb for two seconds and pulled it out. A brief moment of satisfaction. Then there was a second hair she needed to get rid of. And a third, and a fourth.   
Before she realised the damage she was doing, half an hour had passed and the sink was covered in black locks.   
Shit, she thought to herself. I did it again. Why do I keep pulling out my own hair? There’s no logical point and it makes my hair even worse. I’ll end up with bald patches if I don’t stop it.  
She tore out a few more anyways, completely unconsciously. She had started this odd habit around the time she had found out she was a witch, and now, three years later, there was no putting an end to it. Until recently, it had been an occasional comfort thing. When she was younger, she had only pulled occasionally and not that much, not that intensely. But it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge; especially once she got started.   
Her stubborn hand wandered up to her head again and there was nothing Hermione could do to save her, as of now, thick black hair. Popp, popp, popp went her follicles.   
She ran her hands through her hair when she noticed a patch of soft skin.  
No! That couldn’t be! A big bald spot on the side of her skull. This was the first time she noticed the consequences of her pulling this badly. Instead of realising she needed to stop, well, she knew she needed to stop, but just couldn’t control the urge, she ripped out a big strand of hair in frustration.   
Frustration pulling was one of the many ways her condition interfered with her life. It was the rarest but most destructive kind of pulling. She would just wrap a thick lock around her hand and yank on it until it came out. With a lot of force. Sometimes her scalp started bleeding from it. This way she had not just ripped out follicles but also broken a lot of hairs in the middle which gave her the look of a shaggy rooster. The boys sometimes commented on her hair. They didn’t realise how hurtful it was to her. No one seemed to care about her feelings.  
Another kind of pulling was the stress-induced random speed pulling. Quickly picking on her head, not being selective, just pulling for the sake of pulling. The more, the better. This usually happened to her when she was worrying about the test or her friends’ life’s were in mortal danger, which wasn’t too rare in Hogwarts.  
The worst kind of pulling, however, was the seemingly innocent, relaxed, dissociative pulling which could go on for hours. While reading, while studying, while lying in bed before sleeping, even in class or when talking to people. She often didn’t even realise what she was doing until it was too late. When she was aware of it, she was ashamed because she just couldn’t stop. She watched her hand rise up to her scalp, she felt her fingers run through hair, she heard the little “popp” of a lost lock. She was defenceless against her very self.  
Looking into the mirror was painful. She felt her eyes getting watery. Not being able to bear her own reflection any longer, she ran out of the bathroom and to her bed. She manically punched her mattress and bit her pillow. She wanted to scream and maybe break something, but she didn’t want anyone to hear, anyone to know what was going on. She was afraid of not being Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age. A smart witch wouldn’t do anything so stupid. She needed to be strong, for her friends. They needed her.   
Her heart was rapidly beating and her breathing heavy.   
What was the worst of her entire situation was that she just didn’t have a clue what to do. She was always the one who had a plan, the one who would rationally know what to do and get the team back on track. Evil Wizards, the Dark Lord himself, werewolves, bullies like Malfoy – no problem for Hermione Granger. But she couldn’t handle her own damn issues. It was too much.  
She also had no one to talk to about this. Harry would not understand a thing, and, frankly, she wouldn’t want to burden a boy with a childhood as traumatic as his, with her own little problems. Ron would probably make fun of her, if only to conceal the fact that he didn’t know how to maturely deal with emotions.  
Her parents were too far away, the teachers not trained for this kind of stuff. And it wasn’t like Hogwarts had any guidance counsellors that students could come to with their problems.  
Strange, actually. Hermione thought that a place like a school in a post-war society would take care of her students’ mental health. But as so often, the muggles were far ahead of the wizards.  
“Hermione!” a voice called. “What are you doing hiding, I so need help with that potions assignment or Snape will indeed grill me tomorrow, so come down, please!” Ron would not be able to function without her. Lazy, ungrateful bastard. She still loved him anyways, as a friend of course, otherwise she would have told him to screw himself long ago.  
It was not easy walking down the stairs like nothing was wrong. Smiling at her house mates. Strong Hermione, smart Hermione, nerdy, puffy-haired Hermione who’s biggest Problem was that one “E” she got on a Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. She decided to try and pull, hah, through and play it cool. There really wasn’t much else she could do if she didn’t want everyone else to think she was crazy, or worse, weak.   
It was, indeed, a Trichy Situation.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> If you struggle with trich yourself, you can always talk to me.   
> My tumblr is @huglocked.


End file.
